Read So Now You're Back for Free Online Page B

definitely more muscular than he’d been at twenty-one, how could he have also gained an extra inch in height? At five foot four, she had always felt petite standing next to him, but she certainly didn’t remember having to look this far up to see his face.
    Sod the kitten heels. I should have worn stilts. It’s going to be next to impossible to kick ass as a midget.
    He rattled something off in fluent French to the maître d’, who laughed and then grabbed a couple of menus, before directing them into the restaurant.
    â€˜Jean-François has saved us the best booth,’ Luke said.
    â€˜Fine.’ She refused to worry about what he’d said to put that knowing smile on Jean-François’s lips. She had enough crap to process already. ‘Let’s get this over with,’ she added pointedly as she followed the maître d’.
    But as she stepped in front of Luke, his palm touched her lower back and sensation rippled across the upper slope of her bum. She stiffened and jerked round.
    He held up the offending hand, then tucked it back into his pocket, but the crinkle of humour around his eyes made his easy surrender a decidedly pyrrhic victory.
    Swallowing the renewed spike of temper, and the latest unpleasant jolt, she picked up the pace, her kitten heels clicking decisively on the marble tiles. Directed to a booth at the back of the restaurant, she shrugged off her coat and slid onto the well-worn leather seat.
    Luke took the seat opposite, nudging her knee as he folded his long legs under the table. She shifted back. Not because she was scared of touching him, but because she did not want him to crowd her.
    Lifting her briefcase onto the table, she opened the locks as Luke addressed the maître d’ in fluid French.
    â€˜Un espresso, un café crème et une sélection de patisseries. Et puis, dire au garçon qu’il devrait nous laisser seul.’
    Leaving their menus on the table, Jean-François nodded to Luke, said
‘Bon appetite, madame,’
to her, then flashed that knowing smile again and left.
    â€˜What did you say to him?’ she asked, fervently wishing she hadn’t managed to daydream through five whole years of French in school.
    â€˜I ordered an espresso for me, a coffee with cream for you and a selection of pastries for the both of us,’ he replied drily. ‘I assume you still like your coffee milky—and you’ll love the pastries here, they’re a speciality of the place, they have an amazing pastry chef.’
    â€˜I ate on the train,’ she lied, just as drily, aggravated that he remembered how she liked her coffee—and suspicious of the pastry order. Was that why he’d suggested this place? Did he think he could charm her into offering him more money? ‘And even with my rudimentary French, I know what
café crème
is,’ she continued. ‘I meant what you said to him after that.’
    He rested his forearms on the table, the smug almost-smile finally flatlining.
    â€˜I told him to tell the waiter to leave us alone so we could have some privacy for this conversation.’ He stretched out his legs, bumping her knee again. She shifted back further, then wished she hadn’t when the half-smile returned.
    â€˜Relax, Hal, I’m not planning to kidnap you. Yet.’
    She pushed out a scoffing laugh. Determined to appear as cool and confident as he did, even if her ulcer burst. ‘We won’t need too much privacy. This is going to be a very short conversation.’
    One dark brow arched. ‘I doubt that.’
    â€˜Think again.’ She plucked the contract out of her briefcase and slapped it on the table, the way she’d rehearsed several times the night before. He didn’t even flinch, let alone jump the way she’d hoped. She crushed the prickle of disappointment.
    â€˜I’m prepared to offer a generous sum to make this book go away,’ she launched into